


Saturday Morning

by RoseFangedLion



Series: Sticky Keys [1]
Category: K-pop, VIXX
Genre: Domestic, Fluff, M/M, Vixx - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2015-11-26
Packaged: 2018-05-03 11:28:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5289011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseFangedLion/pseuds/RoseFangedLion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Saturday Mornings at Hakyeon and Taekwoon's new house with their new family are quite busy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saturday Morning

Taekwoon wasn’t sure he would ever get used to waking up to the sound of screeching baby on the little blue walky-talky monitor beside his bed. His bones ached as he read the neon numbers on his alarm clock, six forty three am, the sun was creeping through the thick black blinds over the window just barely. Honestly he was surprised he had managed an extra hour and fifteen minutes. Baby Sanghyuk was usually insistent on getting up at exactly five thirty, weekend or no weekend. The twins would be up any minute too, but not Wonsik, he slept like the dead on Saturday.

Hesitantly, he wiggled out from under the warm arm that wound around his waist and watched his husband stir in the quiet, the sudden lack of warmth seemed to upset his sleeping form. The red-head, pulled his blanket tight and murmured incoherently. Taekwoon smiled, an earnest, happy, silly sort of smile that only came in the space between obligations like that.

He sat at the edge of his bed running his feet over the plush carpet for a moment, trying to shake the sleep from his weary body. Nothing had prepared him for the suddenness of his new family but when the adoption agency had told them that Sanghyuk had three brothers, they couldn’t just separate them all like that. It was an…odd situation, but they were odd people so odd seemed fitting.

He sighed, pulled his baggy white sleep shirt up from where it had fallen off his shoulder and stretched just long enough to yawn in the blush of the early morning. On Friday nights he always set the baby monitor on a lower volume so little Hyuk wouldn’t wake his sweet, hard working Hakyeon. He made a point to click it off as he stood and twisted the waistband of his stretchy pajama pants.

In relative silence he slipped through the door and across the narrow hallway to the nursery, careful not to trip over the box sitting next to his bedroom. All of the sleep left him when he saw little baby Hyuk with big crocodile tears streaking down his puffy red face.

“Poor baby,” Taekwoon hushed so softly it could sparsely be heard over the sobbing. 

Hyuk reached out with tiny hands and squeezing his fingers open and shut. Taekwoon all but melted into the floor. Excluding Hakyeon, the younger hadn’t been this in love with anything ever. His children, were freaking adorable…he had children…that was still a weird feeling. He had always loved children, but these children were his. “Good morning sweet boy,” he cooed, lifting his little one out of the white prison of a crib he was confined to at night. With a contented sigh he pressed the softest, sweetest kiss on those pudgy little cheeks that he could.

Dark auburn hair tickled his face as the little boy curled into him and hiccupped as his sobs sub-sided. Taekwoon picked up the discarded pacifier that was lying on the mattress and offered it to his precious kiddo, who took it gladly and popped it in out against his daddy’s chest.

From there he settled into his morning routine, diaper changing, and wandering out to the kitchen with Hyuk settled on his hip in clean incredible hulk pajamas, because no one was obligated to get dressed on Saturdays, babies included.

Taek had too maneuver around piles of things and stacks of boxes. This house had only been theirs for two whole weeks. Four kids is about three too many for a two bedroom apartment, especially when one of them is eight. Poor Wonsik had slept on the couch for nearly a month while they looked for a house.  
Clearly they had not been prepared for this transition.

Suddenly the infant in his arms pulled on his father’s messy black hair and made satisfied gurgling noises. The young composer never thought, in a million years that having his hair pulled on would make him smile but sure enough he did. His eyes curved and his cheeks puffed out, even as he scolded the child with “Ouch, Sanghyuk we don’t pull hair,” he laughed “Do you want breakfast little Hyuk,” he asked, the baby nodded and clapped and then smashed his head a little to fast into Taekwoon’s shoulder but didn’t cry, just put a tiny hand to his head and mumbled around the plastic in his mouth.

It was cute.

Everything he did was painfully cute. 

That tiny body was such a comforting warmth on this chest, it made his heart swell and the whole world seem a whole lot less terrifying sometimes…even though he was twenty eight and suddenly a full time stay at home dad with four children.

When Hyuk sat up it was with gusto and his daddy had to stumble to catch his weight, balancing precariously on a slender hip, held up with just one arm. Every once in awhile he slipped and had to be hoisted back up.

Learning to function one handed all of the time had been a challenge. Takewoon supposed his only clear advantage was that he was ambidextrous so he could still scoop coffee into the coffee maker no matter which hip his child was on…unless it was Jaehwan, he was a squirmy little monster.

As soon as the coffee maker beeped he set to work gathering things to make Hyuk’s bottle with. It had surprised him how quickly his routine had changed. Despite his love of children, he had never cast himself as a full time caregiver, and it wasn’t easy. He spent more often than he cared to admit wearing old clothes that were covered in stains trying to play the piano one handed, but it was worth it. It was worth it for the smile on Hyuk’s face, and the way he tried so hard to speak around his pacifier. He was only six months old, and his words were mostly garbled gibberish, but sometimes real words came out.  
“Datty,” his youngest bubbled with spit and sucked on the plastic in his mouth. He made an irritated grumbled and reached out squeezing his hands at the bottle that had been pulled from the cupboard.

“Just a minute,” Taekwoon offered, “It doesn’t have anything in it yet.”

This was clearly not a satisfying answer as the child whined and grumbled, stretching his little body across his father’s broad chest.

“Good morning daddy,” his husband’s husky, sleep-ridden voice rattled. He was so absorbed in making a bottle for Hyuk and starting the coffee pot for himself that he didn’t even notice the gentle presence draped against the wall in the hallway. He turned to take in the sight of Hakyeon with messy bed head and a soft smile spread across his groggy features. Hongbin was still half asleep curled into his Papa’s shoulder, rubbing the sleep from his tiny eyes. “Say good morning to daddy Hongbin,” Hakyeon whispered, running a hand of the little boy’s back, but he just buried his face.

“Did we wake you?” Taekwoon asked, trying hard not to blush because he wasn’t used to being called daddy yet. “Sorry, I was trying to be quiet.” He shifted Hyuk and put the bottle under the running sink faucet.

“Nah,” Hakyeon rasped in a low tone, “I just got cold and then Hongbin wandered in, I don’t think Jaehwan is up yet.”

“I’m sorry,” the younger man offered.

Hakyeon shrugged, “I would rather be up with my family anyway.”

After a moment of silence and watching Taekwoon struggle only moderately to get the water level right and the formula added he managed to be awake enough to ask, “Do you need help?” because there was no way he was getting the lid on one handed.

Only he did…and Hakyeon’s jaw dropped open. An uncharacteristically smug smile crossed Taekwoon’s perfect lips and he shrugged as he shook the bottle at his side. The baby fussed in his arms, leaning and reaching and clearly he was trying to get himself dropped over his breakfast.

Hakyeon wandered the short distance to the living room and sat sleep Hongbin down on the long, now stained, white section couch. He leaned down and planting a kiss on two year olds forehead as he stirred and fell back asleep.

As Taekwoon switched the bottle for the pacifier, trying not to drop it his gaze softened, Hyuk mumbled out something that sounded like “Ap,” which was usually his way of saying ‘papa’ since words were so hard at barely six months of age.

“Papa?” he asked the baby in the sweetest voice he could.

Hyuk was far to interested in his bottle to say anything but he squirmed as his Papa sauntered over. Hakyeon stretched his back gloriously, standing all the way up on his toes. Geez, even when he was tired he had dancer bodylines. As the older man unfolded, all of his tensions released and he looked incredibly satisfied.  
“Good morning Taekwoon,” he said, honestly, the younger really appreciated the use of his birth name every once in awhile, “Good morning Sanghyuk,” he smiled, reaching his long arms out gently in the early light.

They didn’t embrace so much as side hug, which was becoming the thing these days. Instinctively he leaned into the warmth, curving in to the slightly shorter body, tipping his head down for the second of his many early morning kisses. It lingered on his lips like sweet berry juice and maybe made his toes curl embarrassingly despite the routine of it.

And then, reluctantly, the baby was passed from Daddy to Papa, and snuggled sufficiently. “Let’s go sit you down in the living room baby,” Hakyeon cooed, smiled and his sun-kissed skin flushed red across his cheeks as he walked away. He looked so content, so happy, talking away in his pitchy baby voice. Hyuk for his part grinned when he could be bothered to take his face off the bottle. “Do you want to sit in your play pen?”

Honestly, as long as the tiny baby had a bottle he didn’t care at all where he was sat.

Taekwoon turned his attention to the left over boxes on the kitchen floor, picked on up and set it on the counter. It had already been opened, just not unpacked. It had tall crystal glasses that they were not likely to use in the next five years in it. Oh how swiftly adult life had changed.

“Jaehwanie,” Hakyeon giggled somewhere behind him.

Jaehwan returned the sound but much much loader, and little feet stomped across the floor. “Shhh,” the other man hushed, “Jaehwan not so loud, you’ll wake up your brothers.” Jaehwan didn’t much care.

The young composer was half way through putting the glass on the highest shelf of the cabinet when Hakyeon came back over, the wiggliest child on his hip. “Remember what I told you Jae?” he asked seriously. “Daddy turn around,” he said.

“Daddy!” the noisy two year-old repeated, clapping his hands, only to be shushed.

“Remember?” Hakyeon asked again.

The black haired father caught his little rascal nodding as he turned around with a glass in hand.

“Ready?” Hakyeon asked.

They came close, stood right in front of him, “One, two three,” Papa counted, and they leaned in on either side of his face, planting embarrassingly sloppy, wet, slippery, kisses on both of his cheeks at the same time.

He pretty much died.

He actually did melt into the floor.

No really, he slid down the counter turning a shade of hot, bright red he didn’t remember existing. Covering his face as a grin bloomed across it, laughed out a couple of tears and looked up biting his lip.

The co-conspirators high-fived over his head, “Good job Jaehwan,” Hakyeon declared, setting the little one back on the floor so he could run wild back into the living room.

All Taekwoon could do was smile, bright and so wide his eyes almost disappeared as he wiped the spit off his face.  
His life was ridiculous.

**Author's Note:**

> This was so mind numbingly plotless...I loved every glorious minute of writing it, despite my complaints. I'm a sucker for domestic Neo.  
> If you like it pretty please leave a comment. Comments give me life and make me want to write more  
> As always,   
> With Love  
> RFL


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